Break & Bind
by zz5
Summary: Dean: "I just don't think I can trust you..." Something is broken between the brothers. But an unexpected incident causes them to be (literally) bind together, forcing another confrontation and even clear some misunderstandings... Tag: Season 4/5
1. Chapter 1: Break (Part I)

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural**

 **This story is an AU of episode 5x01 "Sympathy for the Devil", following the end of season 4, "Lucifer Rising". The** **brothers met up with possessed Bobby after visiting Chuck and then the 3 of them got attacked by Meg and co. Bobby got injured and hospitalised.**

 **Unlike the original show, below is the first time Sam talked to Dean about Ruby and the apocalypse. Some of the lines are taken directly from the episodes (I've moved some of the motel convo over to here etc).**

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Break and Bind

Chapter 1  
Break (Part I)

Dean hasn't mentioned anything since they got out of that church, which Sam should be glad for, except that he's not. He has opened the door to Lucifer's cage. He officially started _the_ apocalypse.

And now here they are, in a dark, empty carpark outside the hospital where Bobby is warded.

"Dean..." he called out and Dean turns around with a questioning look.

"Say something," he begged, and a cold, poker face fell upon Dean.

"There's nothing to say," he replied. The chilliness in his voice colder than the night.

"It's my fault. I should have listened..." Sam began.

"You didn't know, neither of us knew," Dean talked over him, hoping to end the conversation, but Sam wouldn't let him.

"Dean, I really... I'm so... I don't know what to say..." Sam admitted, because "sorry" just doesn't cut it this time.

"Then why do you keep bringing it up?!" Dean shouted. The chilliness is suddenly replaced with an outburst of heat and previously-suppressed fury.

"Dean, I..." he stepped forward, "I should have known.. Ruby was Lilith's man... I should have listened to you..." he said, trying to catch his eyes, to confess and convey the regret that is like an endless black hole, eating at him from the inside.

All of a sudden, without warning, a fist came flying from the dark, landing squarely on his left cheek. He stumbled a little to the side.

"Damn right you should," Dean said, breathing heavily.

Sam stayed silent as he straightened up to face Dean, only to be met with another punch to the same spot.

"You didn't listen... *wham* When I asked - no, I begged you to stop... *wham x2* You choose a demon, over your own brother!" Dean then jammed a knee to his stomach. He was on a roll as he lets out a steam of pent-up anger. And Sam lets him at it, not even trying to defend himself. That is why right now, he is doubled over from that solid kick, hugging his stomach with one arm while the other is being held by Dean.

Struggling a little, he straightened up again as best as he could and, with some effort, drops his arm from his aching stomach. Dean waited for him to steady his feet before throwing out one more punch to his face. Sam's head swings to the right once again from the impact. He can feel the left half of his face beginning to swell from all the hits, and his vision blurred for a moment as the world around him spins. Before he can recover from that last hit, he felt the hand gripping his right arm falls.

"You were the one that I depended on the most. And you let me down in ways that I can't even... I just don't think I can trust you." Dean's voice entered his ears, stunning him into complete stillness.

With his face still turned to the side, Sam didn't see the hurt and disappointment on Dean's face before he turns around and made to walk away. Before he can go further than 3 steps out, however, his phone rings in his pocket. He stops in his track and pulls it out - it's Bobby.

Sam stood at the exact same spot where Dean has left him, listening to Dean speak with Bobby on the phone with a faraway expression, still taking in the last of what he had said to him: _I just don't think I can trust you..._

"Bobby called. Someone broke into his old storehouse nearby. I told him we'll check it out," Dean unwillingly turned back to his brother and said.

Sam blinks, keeping himself together, he replied, "Ok.. let's go."

* * *

 **A new few-shot fic~:) I've completed the first draft of the whole story but I'm a super slow editor and school work is piling up so, hope I'll have time to upload the next chap soon!**

 **Writer's Random Rant: 1st of March seems so far awayy~~**

 **Coming soon… Chapter 2: Bind (Part I)**


	2. Chapter 2: Bind (Part I)

**Previously on Chapter 1: Break (Part I)…**

… **Sam blinks, keeping himself together, he replied, "Ok.. let's go."**

 **There should be 4 chapters in total, here's chapter 2~**

* * *

Chapter 2  
Bind (Part I)

It was a short ride to Bobby's storehouse. A quiet ride. And an awkward one too. Neither said anything much besides Dean relaying some information that he had gotten from Bobby. It was one of those places where Bobby kept the various cursed objects that he had come across over the years, much like the one that John had had. Given their recent encounter with the demons, Bobby was worried that the breaking and entering was not just done by some petty thieves.

The boys enter the dimly-lit room, with dust covering every surface and devil's trap and salt lines at every step of their way, some of which are unbroken. Is it not a demon then? It's still too early to tell. Going deeper in, they stand among the iron-made racks that shelve those specially warded boxes, a few of which now scattered on the floor along with their contents.

"Seems like that was a fight," Dean commented.

"Demons?" Sam suggested sceptically since there isn't any sulphur in addition to the unbroken devil's traps.

"Don't touch anything," Dean cautioned, memory of the rabbit's foot still fresh in their minds.

"I'll get gloves from the trunk," Sam said.

The two of them carefully return those objects into their boxes and replace them on the shelves. It seems like the intruders have merely knocked them over while fighting. They have returned all the boxes back to their place except for one, to which they have the box but not the cursed object.

"Maybe it got stuck under the shelves?" Sam wondered out loud as both of them remove the rubber gloves off their sweaty hands.

"The lock on this one's not working," Dean said, checking on one of the bigger boxes among them. He then notices a spare rope at the foot of a shelve beside Sam. "Grab me that, will you?"

Sam got the rope and passes it to Dean.

"Dude, let go, I'm trying to tie it around..." Dean tugged at the rope but then Sam suddenly gasped.

The moment both of them touches the rope, it had wound around both their wrists, binding them together by the hand. They look down at their hands, then to the last empty box on the floor.

"I think we found the last one," Sam said.

They tried every way possible to cut the rope loose but it just wouldn't budge.

"Great! Just fantastic!" Dean cried in frustration after a quarter hour of unsuccessful clipping; cutting; sawing; and burning.

"Let's get back to the hospital, maybe Bobby knows how to get this off," Sam suggested.

"Alright," Dean agreed as he closes the trunk and walks around to the driver's seat. However, difficulty arises when he opens the door and tries to get in. Dean has got his left hand bounded with Sam's right. And the driver's seat is on the left.

"I should drive," Sam noted.

Dean lets out an unhappy sigh but shifted to sit shotgun while Sam climbs in to sit in front of the wheel. It is yet another uncomfortable ride, though in a more absurd way than the last. Sam drives single-handedly all the way back to the hospital. It is lucky that there weren't many cars on the road given the time of the night, but it did require a bit more concentration to drive with only your non-dominant hand. Not only Sam, Dean also has to force his left hand to lie still on the seat next to Sam's, not being able to cross his arms or shift position whenever he wants to.

Even on regular days, it would have been a pain to be cursed by the vine yet now, with everything in between them, there has to be a physical bind that forces them to be joined at the hips 24/7. It's like the heaven is playing a huge, cruel prank on them, in addition to everything else.

Both felt a sense of relief when they come to the end of the short ride that seemed unusually long. Getting out of the car awkwardly, one after another through the same door, they walk side by side in a stiff manner into the hospital and to the room where Bobby is warded. Bobby is awake when they enter the room.

"What happened, were there demons?" Bobby sat up straighter in concern the moment they entered.

"No, no, the place was empty when we got there," Sam quickly said.

"There seemed to be a fight there recently but we missed it. None of those cursed objects are missing by the way," Dean informed him.

"Oh. Then, what's with your face, kid?" Bobby asked, staring at Sam's. Both brothers shifted uncomfortably in their spot.

"I, er, I fell," Sam said lamely, not meeting Bobby's eyes as he gave the obvious lie.

"Sure you did..." Bobby raised his eyebrows, glancing over to Dean, who also avoided his gaze.

"And Bobby, we got a problem..." Sam quickly changed the topic as he raises his right hand along with Dean's left.

"... Dammit, boys!" Bobby cried after recognising the bind.

"Please tell me you know how to get this off," Dean said in a plea.

"No! It's _The Unbreakable Vine_. You can't break it," Bobby exclaimed.

"No... There must be a way..." Sam said with forced calm.

"Well, there is one way..."

"What is it?" Both boys asked in sync.

"One of you chop your hand off," Bobby snorted gruffly.

Their hopeful bubble immediately popped and vanishes into thin air.

"Is there any other way?" Dean urged.

"Which part of _un-brea-kle-ble_ do you not understand, boy?" Bobby narrowed his eyes at him sarcastically. Dean leans back and raises his hands in surrender.

Then, Bobby lets out a heavy sigh, squeezing his eyes wearily.

"Ok. I'll be getting out of this damn place in two days, and then we'll go back to my place to do some research. You idgits lie low until we find a way," Bobby told them the plan.

"Alright, Bobby. There's a motel just down the street. Call us if you need anything," Sam said and Bobby nodded in acknowledgement. The boys were on their way out when the older man called.

"And Sam," they turned around expectantly, "Get something on that face," he said. Sam gave a non-committal jerk of his head and then the door swings shut.

* * *

 **Writer's Random Rant: Sooo much school work + group work! Arggg!**

 **Coming soon… Chapter 3: Break (Part II)**


	3. Chapter 3: Break (Part II)

**Previously on Chapter 2: Bind (Part I)…**

… **Sam gave a non-committal jerk of his head and then the door swings shut.**

 **Really need to start my revision for mid-terms soon~ But I'll most likely complete this story before the exams start since there's only one chapter left :) (Got a feeling there'll be much editing to be done for the last chapter tho~›‹)**

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Chapter 3  
Break (Part II)

Sam and Dean sit around the small table in their room, laptops out and research mode on.

"Urg..." Dean sighed and slumps against his chair after hours of surfing the net.

"Find anything?" Sam asked, sounding equally tired.

It has been annoying, not being able to use both hands freely when conducting the research and also, not able to move around without dragging the other along.

They had checked in during the wee hours of the day and haven't left the room since. Like what Bobby said, it is probably best to "lie low" for now, as they are pretty much handicapped in a physical fight. Moreover, both had felt extremely self-conscious when around people, like that time when they walked through the hospital, and then again when they approached the motel reception. Perhaps it was just their imagination, but with their wrists bound together like that, it did seem as though they were holding hands while they walk, which drew some funny looks from passing strangers. All things considered, it is probably not a good time to be out and about. And that also means alone time for the two brothers, trapped together in the motel room.

The last piece of half-cold pizza that they had ordered for delivery lies forgotten beside the lamp. Sam turned the lights on just a moment ago when the sky darkened, shading the room. The hours spent in the room were quiet ones, with both of them researching on their own respective laptops.

Dean closes his eyes for a second and they refuse to open again. When was the last time he had a decent sleep? At Bobby's place before junkie Sam's great escape? And then a handful hours in between tracking down the runaway?

Sam closes his laptop with a soft 'thud', stifling a drawn-out yawn that hurts his bruised face. It has been days since he last slept too.

"We can continue on tomorrow," Sam suggested.

"Agreed," Dean replied with his eyes shut. And then, with some effort and determination, he pushes himself off the chair and the two of them head towards the only bathroom to wash up before crashing for the night.

Standing in front of the sink and mirror, and under the bright white light, it is easy to see the full extent of the damages from Sam's neck up. The whole left side of his face is decorated with various tones of red, purple, and black, hugely swollen, practically disfigured. Sam noticed Dean catching sight of his injuries in the mirror. Having stood on Sam's right side since last night at the storehouse, Dean never really had a good look at his own masterpiece until now.

None of them made any comment about it as they brush their teeth and wash their faces - only half the face in Sam's case. Of course, Sam has been feeling his injuries since the first hit at the car park, throbbing and burning away underneath his skin. The impact was strong enough that blood had dribbled out of his nose and mouth, but he wiped them away while on the way to Bobby's storehouse. It has been constantly aching ever since but he learnt to ignore it, mostly. After years in this hunting job, cuts and bruises are just an everyday, part-of-his-life occurrence. Despite so, this particular wound, even by his usual standard, is pretty bad...

After cleaning up as best as they could, they return back to the main room. Without a word, Dean saunters over to his duffle bag and pulls out a bottle of their usual bruise treatment cream and tosses it to Sam, who caught it reflexively.

"Thanks..." Sam muttered after recognising the bottle. He then pulls out his phone and set it up on the table, using it as a mirror while he tries to apply the medicine to his face. Dean sits awkwardly at the side while Sam dabs cream at the bruises. He isn't very efficient though, having to use his left hand for his left face, not to mention his swelling left eye that affects his vision when he tries to see his reflection on the phone's screen. After watching Sam struggles at it for a few seconds, Dean sighs and tugs the bottle of cream off his hand.

"Wha.. I can do it..." Sam said, reaching out to get the bottle back.

"Don't move," Dean ordered impatiently, already squeezing the content onto his right index finger. He gestured for Sam to turn his head to the right, which he did.

Sam's eyes narrowed slightly in anticipation of the pain but managed not to flinch when the finger brushes his face. Despite Dean's abrasiveness at snagging the medicine, his hand is surprisingly gentle when applying it. Sam caught the look of concentration on Dean's face as he spreads the cream evenly across his cheek before averting his eyes to stare into the far corner of the room.

"Done. Anywhere else?" Dean asked after he's finished with the face, glancing pointedly at his abdomen where he had previously kneed.

"Er, no. No, I'm good," Sam said quickly while instinctively moving his hand towards his tummy.

Dean shrugs and tosses the cream back into the bag. The bruise under his shirt is not as serious as the ones on the face for sure. Finally, it is time for bed.

Then, as soon as they got up from the table, another problem hits. How are they going to sleep? They have two Full-Size beds, one of which is useless given their situation. Each bed is big enough for two - two normal-sized people, which they're not. They stood there for an awkward moment, soaking in their predicament. One quick solution is to ask for a change of room back at the receptionist, but... probably not. They can stick it out for just one night, right? Tomorrow, they'll be leaving with Bobby to find a way out of this.

"Get the lights," Dean said as they each settle into one half of the bed. Sam stretches his hand and switches off the bedside lamp.

It is an uncomfortable squeeze, with their arms literally pressing into one another in order not to fall off the edge. They couldn't even take off their jackets, thanks to the bind, adding on to their limited space constraints.

Both of them lie there, side by side, silent and still. But they are far from asleep. It seems like forever ago when they'd last shared a bed - when they were still two kids, playing with dad's torchlight underneath the large canopy of a blanket; going on imaginary adventures and far-away places that only they knew of...

And now. The dull and wrinkled piece of cloth drapes carelessly across their torsos, plain and boring as it is. Facing away into the opposite ends of the room, both have their eyes shut but it'll take much longer to shut down their brains, despite being exhausted to the core.

 _Dean_  
[... You don't know me. You never did. And you never will.] Sam's voice rings loud and clear in Dean's head.

He wants to reject, with everything he's got, that that isn't true. He practically watched the kid grew up in front of his eyes. If he doesn't know Sam, who does? However, he couldn't deny that he never did expect the Sam that he knew would rather trust someone else, much less a demon, over him...

Sam had regretted it. Dean knows that he does. He could see it in his eyes - the horror, when he realised what he had done. And he sees it clearly again when Sam stood there defencelessly while he pounded on him, letting himself get beaten up like that because he felt that he deserved it. Dean knows it was an honest mistake, that his intentions were good. Dean knows that. But he can't... just can't.

 _Sam_  
[... You choose a demon, over your own brother! ... you let me down in ways that I can't even… I just don't think I can trust you.] Despite all the heavy punches that Dean had thrown his way, it was his words that could really break him apart.

[...you blood-sucking freak. ... There's no going back... You're a monster, Sam. You're a monster... _a monster... a monster...]_

"You're right," Sam said aloud, replying to the voice in his head and breaking the silence in the room.

"Go to sleep, Sam," Dean replied wearily, too tired for another one of these confrontations. [Don't make me break your other face…] he thought idly to himself.

"You were right, I am a monster - a.. a "blood-sucking freak". I don't deserve your trust, or Bobby's, or anyone's..." Tears well up in his eyes as he said this.

Dean felt the arm against his tensed, its muscles hardening. He shifts slightly to lie on the back of his head, staring up at the ceiling. Soon as it was out of his mouth, he had regretted it. He knew how much it would hurt Sam when he called him a monster. It pained him almost just as much, but he said it anyway. He was angry, and hurt, and frustrated because he could see that he wasn't getting through to Sam. He couldn't. In that sense, Sam had been a monster - to him. After all that has happened, something has broken between them. Something less tangible than Sam's face but nevertheless, broken. It wasn't just angry talk when he said that he could trust Sam no more.

"Look, I'm not taking back what I said," Dean replied brusquely, referring to the last sentence of Sam's speech. "But what's done, done. Right? We made a mess. We clean it up. That's it."

"Yea..." Sam agreed quietly, his heavy heart sinking even lower than before. He has interpreted Dean's answer to be harsher than what he really meant it to be.

"And don't go putting words in my mouth," Dean then added.

"What?" Sam said blankly.

"I never called you a.. a "blood-sucking freak"!" He quoted Sam, voice filled with affronted indignation.

"Er... I'm not trying to pick a fight here but.. you did," Sam replied tentatively.

"No I didn't," Dean turned his head to glare at Sam in the dark.

"Yes you did," Sam turned to look back at him with furrowed eyebrows, "in the voicemail..."

"Voicemail?" Dean sounded confused for a second and then he remembered. "So you did get my voicemail," Dean said, looking back up the ceiling. He never knew if Sam had listened to it or not.

"Yea..." Sam mimicked Dean in gazing up the ceiling, and he tried to keep the pain out of his voice as he recalled the message. "You were right. You should have listened to dad.. when he said you might have to.. do what you have to do.."

"Why are you bringing up dad for?" Dean said, his mind shifted to the conversation that he had with the possessed Bobby. Sam wasn't there at the time though, he couldn't have known what that fake Bobby had blabbered.

"Wha.. you were the one who sai... Never mind," Sam sighed, unwilling to go on.

A curious and confusing silence followed. With a deep dent between his eyes, Dean lies within the darkness, his mind reeling. There is something really off about their conversation before. And it wasn't just because of their strained relationship right now. Like a gnat buzzing in his head, his gut is telling him that something... something feels wrong.

Dean bounces up from the bed into a sitting position.

"Dean?" Sam called out in concern, getting up and switching the lights back on.

"Give me your phone," Dean demanded.

"What?" Sam asked as he reaches for his phone beside the bed.

"The voicemail I sent you, let me hear it," Dean said urgently.

"Wh... why?" Sam asked, clearly uncomfortable with the request.

"I need to check something," Dean said snappily.

Sam stared at him for a confused second before looking down at his phone to search for the voicemail.

 _‹You listen to me, you bloodsucking freak. Dad always said I'd either have to save you or kill you...›_

Dean listens with shock and bewilderment at his own voice coming out of the phone's speaker, and the shock gradually growing into anger and outrage.

Sam, on the other hand, has a look of pain and guilt since the very first word, both his hands are clenched tight into hardened fists, and the same goes for his jaw, even though it hurts his face. Hearing it a second time doesn't make this any easier.

 _‹... You're a monster, Sam - a vampire. You're not you anymore. And there's no going back.›_

"… Friggin' angels!" Dean bursts out after the end of the voicemail and Sam looks at him in surprise.

"Dean...?" Sam uttered, confused by the furious twist upon his face.

"That is not me. It's my voice, but it's not.. it's not me," Dean told Sam, sucking in an angry breath mid-sentence.

"It's not...?" Sam repeated with uncertainty.

"No!" Dean almost shouted in reply. "You really thought that I'd say... any of those?!" Dean asked in exasperation. Sam didn't reply but Dean could tell from his face that yes, yes he did. Dean takes in a deep breath to calm his explosive rage towards those feathered douchebags.

"So... You heard the phoney voicemail and went running over to that church, huh?" Dean said in a calmer voice.

"Yea, I guess..." Sam muttered and hung his head in embarrassment.

"They totally played us - like puppets on a string! Those evil, cocky, manipulative..." Dean ranted on about the angels until -

"Hello." Both Sam and Dean jumped at the unexpected yet familiar voice. They look up, only to see the last person (angel) that they thought they would see.

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 **Keep feeling like it's missing something for this chapter in the first draft so I edited quite a bit before I'm finally satisfied~ Or almost satisfied..  
Haha, somehow I can never be fully contented with any of my stories~ Maybe cause I've read truly beautifully-written fics out there where the authors have such a knack for the English language! (You guys set the bar too high people - but I like it~ XD)**

 **Writer's Random Rant: It's been months~~~ Those fics that I'm following, please updatee~ I wanna read~~ :P**

 **Coming soon… Chapter 4: Bind (Part II)**


	4. Chapter 4: Bind (Part II)

**Previously on Chapter 3: Break (Part II)…**

… **They look up, only to see the last person (angel) that they thought they would see.**

 **Last chapter and my 4** **th** **spn few-shot fic is officially completed~! ^^**

 **Writer's Random Rant: There was a meme that I came across, something along the line of -** _ **"Group Projects make me understand why Batman works alone".**_ **And I'm feeling particularly strongly about this line recently, after the past 2 online project meetings that I had this week…**

* * *

Chapter 4  
Bind (Part II)

"Cas...?!" Dean blurted in surprise.

"You guys need to be more careful..." Castiel said while stepping forward to press his palms on both their chests.

"Urg.. What the hell was that?" Dean asked as both humans felt the uncomfortable carving squeeze in their ribs.

"An Enochian Sigil. It'll hide you from every angel in creation. Lucifer is circling his vessel and once he takes it, those hex bags won't be enough to protect you," he informed them.

"Wait... Cas, we thought.. we thought you were dead," Sam said in awe.

"I was," Cas confirmed while landing two fingers on his forehead, instantly healing his face.

"Thanks..." Sam said in surprise, feeling his healed face with his left hand.

"Then how are you back?" Dean continued to ask as he watches him fixed Sam up.

Castiel gazes at them for a silent moment and then his eyes move down to the tangled vine around their wrists.

"That is a cursed plant," he noted, ignoring Dean's question. "Where did you get that?"

"At Bobby's storehouse. That's right, Cas, can you get this off us?" Sam asked hopefully, lifting their bounded hands to let him have a better look.

"It must have fallen out of its box when I fought the other angels..." Cas said to himself while feeling the vine with his fingers.

"Wait. You were at Bobby's...?" Dean trailed off.

"Yes. Zachariah, he tried to lure you there but I fought them off." Sam and Dean exchanged a look, realising only now, how close they were to being confronted by the bad angels.

"What else do they want with us?" Dean demanded angrily.

"The Michael Sword," Cas told them gravely, "Michael's ultimate weapon to defeat Lucifer."

"What does that have to do with us? We don't have any Michael Sword..." Sam said.

"It's Dean. Dean is the Michael Sword," Cas looks towards the older of the two.

"... What?" Dean gasped in perplexity, "What do you mean I'm a sword?"

"He's Michael's vessel..." Sam realised.

"His true vessel," Cas supplemented.

"... A custom-made arch angel's hand puppet! Great. Just.. perfect," Dean muttered sarcastically, his hands coming up to grab at the roots of his hair – just one hand. The other one didn't get far before feeling the resistance of Sam's immobile hand on the bed. Castiel returns his attention to the vine.

"There is a common weakness with the plant species," Cas said knowledgeably and he looks up to meet two awaiting eyes, "Fire," he told them.

"We tried that. Didn't work," Dean sighed dismissively at his solution.

"Not mortal fire, it wouldn't. But I can try to burn it with my grace," Cas said as he places his palm over the vine.

A piercing white light emits from underneath his hand and several seconds later, he removes it to reveal a blackened, ashing vine, burned to a crisp. With a light tug in the opposite direction, The Unbreakable Vine breaks apart with ease.

"Thanks," the both of them said gratefully as they lightly massage their freed wrists.

"You're welcome," Cas said graciously. He takes a step back and was just about to vanish on the spot when Dean called out to him.

"Cas, wait! I want to ask you something," he exclaimed while rising from the bed. "The voicemail that I left Sam when I was in that.. room. You guys changed it, didn't you?" Dean asked with controlled irritation.

Cas bowed his head in acknowledgement and apology.

"Yes. Zachariah felt that the original message might steer Sam "off course", so he altered it to give him a.. "prod in the right direction"," Cas quoted his ex-boss, confirming what they already knew. "Here," Cas picked up Sam's phone on the bed and fixes his eyes at it for 2 seconds, "I've returned the actual voicemail."

He returns the phone to Sam and then vanishes into thin air without a word of goodbye.

"... Where's the fire?" Dean grumbled, taken aback by his sudden, unannounced exit.

Sam looks down broodingly at his phone, his thumb brushing over the keypad, just one button away from the truth. But, does he want to know the truth? Well.. it can't be any worse than the original… He told himself to overcome the apprehension in his heart.

‹ _Hey, it's me. Uh...›_ Dean spun around to see that Sam had begun playing the actual voicemail.

‹… _Look, I'll just get right to it. I'm still pissed... and I owe you a serious beatdown...›_

Sam gives a quick lift of a corner of his lips at this line while Dean thought, "Not anymore~"

‹… _But... I shouldn't have said what I said. You know, I'm not Dad. We're brothers. You know, we're family. And, uh... no matter how bad it gets, that doesn't change. Sammy, I'm sorry.›_ And the message ended with a beep.

Although Dean was the one who left the message, with Sam being the intended recipient, it somehow felt really strange for them to listen to it together.

"... Yea, that's the right one," Dean commented to break the awkward silence.

Sam had sat there silently as the voicemail played, staring at his phone with a blank, dazed look for the most part. And now he sits there still, even after it had ended, staring. The 180° difference between the two messages is so glaring, especially when played back-to-back like that.

"I'm gonna shower," Dean continued saying when Sam still didn't speak. "Finally..." he sighed in relief. They haven't been able to shower or change since they got tangled by the curse. It is such a joy to finally be able to wash off all the sweat and dirt and have some private "me" time, like showering.

He goes to grab a fresh set of clothes from his bag, noting from the corner of his eyes that Sam is still just sitting there unmovingly. He deliberated over Sam's reaction, or non-reaction, to his actual voicemail. What is going through that overthinking mind of his when he hears the message? Did he not believe him? Or, given what had happened after...

"By the way, it still stands," Dean said just before entering the shower room. At last, Sam looks up from his phone as though he has been awakened. "Whatever was said. Still stands," Dean threw it out there.

A surge of warmth, and relief, and gratitude quickly filled up inside Sam. Dean does know him the best.

Sam had felt these emotions rising up within him as he hears the belated message, but he pushed it down. _‹… we're family… no matter how bad it gets, that doesn't change…› No matter how bad…_

But that was before he killed Lilith; before he opened the devil's gate; and before he set Lucifer free... All those kind words are for that Sam who had not yet destroyed the world, so he didn't dare to hope. Hence, what Dean just said, it lifted those doubts and he felt hopeful once more.

"Thanks Dean…" Sam breathed, just before he shuts the door. Did he hear him? Sam couldn't be sure, but he felt that he did.

Sam lies back onto the bed, gripping his phone in his now-freed hand. Would he have stopped if it was this message that he received instead of the other? Would the apocalypse never have happened? Would Dean not become heaven's most wanted man? So many "ifs", so many contingencies...

They are all moot points now. Lucifer is still out there, the angels are still hunting them, and the world is still ending. Yet despite all that, in this instance, Sam feels much lighter than he had felt for a long time. Nothing's changed. Yet everything's changed.

Something was _broken_ , undeniably. But that true, unbreakable _bind_ between them has always, and will always, be there.

~ The End ~

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 **Thanks to all who have read &/or reviewed! Hope you've enjoyed the story~ :)**


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